pixies
prance ere cockcrow
amidst fine sterling trees,
but, dreams will come when morning’s glow
is known
——
57 is an older cinquain.
pixies
prance ere cockcrow
amidst fine sterling trees,
but, dreams will come when morning’s glow
is known
——
57 is an older cinquain.
those beets
smell foul, like feet
encased in dirty sheets;
thank you, but I’ll just stick to meat
and wheat!
—–
When I was a little girl, I really disliked beets. Now, I will consume them with pleasure. I suppose that my taste buds had to mature in order to enjoy them.
Is there a traditional Thanksgiving food that you have/had an aversion to? If you eat this food now, what swayed your taste buds into liking it? Merely the passage of time? I would be interested to hear your stories.
Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans! I hope that you are able to spend the day with loved ones–whether that means family, friends, or both.
mistakes
and false fancies
betray the feisty fakes
who have been attempting to seize
our keys
black veil,
who is beneath
your silk, adumbral wale?
such bewitching crimson lips wreathe
her teeth!
lush grapes
line the pathways
that we aimlessly traipse
along, beneath sun’s thrashing rays
today
mystic
echoes bounced round
crazed, frightened faces, thick
with dread as screeching manes crowned
the sound
Oh, did
you realize
that behind yon turbid
welkin, glide sprites who stabilize
grim skies?
“Soon, lunch
for the children,”
Ma squawked with cheerful punch,
while beheading a husky hen
for ten.
Oh Love,
do be silent,
for, there, prowling above
this den, is the spy who was sent
from Kent
tiger
flames fall upon
her skeletal shoulder
as this dolorous antiphon
drags on